This unsporting life

(This piece appeared in the most recent edition of SundayLife, and some of my friends who missed it suggested I post it here, so that they could have a whole new opportunity to laugh at me.)When I was but a young lad of 16, I was visiting another school for a tennis match when some friends called to me from a cricket pitch. It was the mighty Fourth XI (out of four) and, given our school’s traditional indifference to sport, they were down a player who hadn’t bothered to turn up. Would I be willing to fill in as last drop?

Would I ever. As an Australian male, I’d like to think I know a thing or two about cricket. I’d even played competitively in year 7 or year 8 (well, if you count losing every single match as “competitive”). And I once scored 12, one of the highest scores all season. So I thought it would be child’s play to put on a quick-fire, Viv Richards-style half-century so my admiring teammates could carry me off the field, triumphantly brandishing a stump.

I donned (in the sense of “putting on”, not “reminiscent of Don Bradman”) some pads but opted – hygienically – not to use the “box”, which had already been down the undies of most of my sweaty teammates. I jauntily strolled out to the middle, bat propped rakishly over my shoulder, communicating to the bowler that I was made of better stuff than the amateurs he’d been facing earlier. I took guard. The bowler began his run-up. And propelled his first medium-slow delivery right into my crotch.

Honestly, the pain was excruciating … but even more agonising for an adolescent whose manhood had just been metaphorically (and literally) crushed were the taunts. “Balls before wicket!” said one wag. My pride also retired hurt that day. And I haven’t played cricket with a real ball since. Because, despite my enduring love of it, despite my fantasies whenever I take to the field that somehow things will be different this time, I am crap at sport.

I don’t “throw like a girl” or take wild air swings and miss completely. I’m not like a scene from Revenge Of The Nerds (well, not in that respect anyway). I just mean that every single time I play sport, whether it’s soccer, table tennis or tenpin bowling, I’m invariably the most mediocre. That’s not how Aussie blokes are supposed to be. My passport is meant to give me mystical powers of eye-to-hand co-ordination as well as bucket-loads of Aussie spirit. The Australian way is to fight above our weight and bring back the glory. It’s Steve Waugh scoring that century in an afternoon at the SCG. It’s Lleyton Hewitt chasing down every damned ball on his way to a Wimbledon title (as opposed to chasing Bec Cartwright). It’s our hero Socceroos, except in the years 1975 to 2005. But the only champion sportsman I have any chance of emulating is Steven Bradbury. And I’d need a much greater number of people to collapse in a heap ahead of me before I took home any medals.

We’re not a country where you get points for trying. When Ricky Ponting’s team surrendered the Ashes, we didn’t congratulate them on getting close. We were devastated. And that’s my problem. I play soccer with a bunch of mates in the park on weekends – unfit, lazy blokes who, for the most part, ought to be just as bad as me. But for some reason, they effortlessly outclass me. So I make fun of myself before others can, all the while sobbing on the inside like a baby. And even though all of us could pretty much serve as a second Nerds FC team, the whole thing’s become ultra-competitive. I’ve been shouted at for not tackling hard enough and the girls who used to play with us for fun are long gone, tired of balls being kicked in their faces … because Australian men don’t do “social” sport. Even for toddlers at kindy, it’s war.

It’s surprising we aren’t more tolerant of sporting failures when the most revered example of Australian manhood is the Gallipoli landing. (And believe me, I get hammered on the beach just playing Frisbee.) English football fans can obsess over tiny, unsuccessful regional teams but the Sydney Swans only get crowds when they’re winning. While in Melbourne, an Essendon v Carlton match takes on the seriousness of a blood feud – even when both are at the bottom of the ladder.

Where does that leave those like me, whose genes simply aren’t cut out for it? Jealous and resentful, frankly. Since we’re already confined to the shallow end of sport’s gene pool, the least you could do is not sledge us. We’re already painfully aware that we’re rubbish and your mum could do a better job. Believe me.

Jocks ought to be careful how much they pick on my kind, though. John Howard loves cricket more than he loves the Queen – and that’s saying something. However, he’s not only the bloke who hands out that all-important Australian Institute of Sport funding – he gets to open the Olympics and pick the Prime Minister’s XI. And that truly is the revenge of the nerds.
Dominic Knight

Posted
October 19, 2006 10:53 AM

LATEST COMMENTS

So you can't play sport. Its not the end of the world. You are probably really good at doing other things like rubiks cubes, craft or formatting a hard drive. Maybe you excel at role playing games like dungeons and dragons. There must be something you are good at so the other boys will like you?

Winning isn't everything, its the only thing. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a loser. A mans competitive spirit has no boundaries. We even pride ourselves on our lightening speed and efficiency at the teller machine.

If you find that you are no good at something you must follow the golden rules. 1: secretly try and get good at it. 2: if things don't improve you must never do that activity again. 3: you must deride everyone who bothers with this stupid activity for ever more, at the same time questioning there sensibility, ethnicity and sexuality.

Posted by: Garry on October 19, 2006 11:34 AM

Dom... I have never really given a thought about how someone as un-co as you, really feels. I am truly amazed that some poor unfortunates ( no offence) can't catch, can't bat and can't bowl etc. It's all about timing. Don't give up. I need a good laugh every now 'n' then

Posted by: suey on October 19, 2006 12:06 PM

sage words garry my man

Posted by: mushroom on October 19, 2006 1:23 PM

Don't worry about your lack of prowess at sports, Dom.

You're probably a Viking in the sack. THAT'S where talent is most important.

Posted by: Killer Bees on October 19, 2006 2:00 PM

Oh ewwwwww KB.
I don't like to think of Dom in that way. It's as if you just made some comment about my brother and it's just Not Right.
Although, I can kinda see Dom in a be-horned hemet and birkenstocks.

Posted by: actonb on October 19, 2006 2:23 PM

Yeah rigthto Killer B. Is that what you tell yourself? If you say it enough...it must be true.

Posted by: suey on October 19, 2006 2:54 PM

You know what I think is really funny about sport? The way it brings out those savage killer instincts in the mildest of us all. Like, the grannies who go to church on Sundays and are the sweetest things in the world every day of the week except when the cricket is on and their team is losing. Then they hate the other side. That is h-a-t-e, grrrrrrrr, the other side. Another quirky thing about sports-lovers is the way their entire week is ruined if the team they barrack for loses, and they shout and snarl at people and kick the dog when it didn't do a thing wrong. But if the team wins, they are the complete opposite.

Scary isn't it. Just a number on a score-board can affect so many lives either deleriously, or detrimentally, along with all those around them. That is pathetic.

I believe that sport brings out some sort of primeval instinct of competition (athletic hunters get the biggest game and survive longer periods) that is completely misplaced in todays society where most sports fans just use weekend sports games as an excuse to sit in front of the television with a slab of beer and eat loads of junk.

And hasn't the killer instinct gotten out of hand at a lot of sports games in recent years? Sports only creates an 'us against them' mentality in society. Forget the lies about comeraderie and team effort. Look at the bigger picture.

But boys will be boys. And I guess even down to their one teeny weeny little sperm swimming upstream and competing to fertilise one egg, they will always be in competition, even with themselves.

Posted by: Not into sports on October 19, 2006 3:04 PM

It's ok, Dom. I have Chinese heritage, am 24 years young, and can't manage to use chopsticks properly, much less figuring out how to play the simplest of 2 chord punk songs. You make do with what you've got- hence we don't have jobs requiring us to have nimble fingers or feet.

Posted by: Hinn on October 19, 2006 4:21 PM

I once played in a social cricket match where I had friends on both teams.

When my turn to bat came, a fast bowling good friend of mine asked if I was wearing a box. I wasn't, but he was a friend... he wouldn't do that to me.

On his 3rd delivery, he did. I limped for 3 days.

That was the day I learned that friendship does not exist on the playing field... only off it.

Oh... & not in the practice nets either. 2 months later, the same 'friend' was bowling to me in the nets, the ball hit me on the left hand & 2 days later off came the whole shattered fingernail.

Retired hurt, permanently.

Posted by: WaitingMan on October 19, 2006 4:44 PM

When I was at school, I was asked in desperation to play for the cricket team for one game (they knew full well of the imbalance between my enthusiasm and ability)

On the day, I was last batsman. I got bowled first ball. Very humiliating.

The following week, for the second innings, I was somehow promoted to fifth drop. The other team laughed at me and remembered my first innings golden duck. They all moved in, I stood tall and smacked my first delivery straight to the point fieldsman. Well, straight to where he would be wearing a box if he had one.

I made 10 runs that day and we won but I was never again was asked to play cricket for anyone.

Posted by: Brody Swan on October 19, 2006 4:59 PM

I've tried just about every sport from bowls to boules to bowling, as well as running, swimming, soccer, softball, cricket, squash, tennis, handball, table tennis, vigoro, baseball, badminton, field athletics, fencing, volleyball, aikido, basketball, cycling etc -- you get the picture. I was crap at every one of them.
However, I recommend cricket if you're uncoordinated, because you can develop bowling as a splinter skill, i.e. one which you practise so often you can become good at it. You'll notice that batting requires creative responses, so if you're not sporty, forget it. Many batsmen are good at other responsive ball sports such as tennis, and are usually good fielders. However, many bowlers (not all) are just guys who have rehearsed the move so often they do it without thinking. They are less likely to be good at batting or fielding, or other sports. Other sportsmen (like rugby league players) are often better at batting or fielding than full-time cricketers who bowl. I know, because I was a useful offspin bowler, but am the least gifted sportsperson I have ever known.

Posted by: Professor Rosseforp on October 19, 2006 9:14 PM

Ooooh KB, I certainly am going to start reading Dom's blogs with a new perspective!! But then, I've always had the belief and experience that a man who can write with style and passion can be just as...stylish and passionate in the "sack" as you call it. So, *cough cough* I don't expect any less from Dom *cough cough*

YOU STUD MUFFIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted by: Bron on October 19, 2006 10:34 PM

Chinese and you can't use chopsticks ! Thats gold. I am sure that one day the powers that be in Beijing will come clean that chopsticks are some sort of practical joke on the western world.

The people who fall the furthest in this trick are the pretentious "non-chinese" who shun the cutlery and proudly grapple with the sticks, all the while being unable to come to terms with the fact that they can't order from the legendary secret Chinese menu and get real "authentic" food thats not swimming in syrup even though they would be someone who would truly appreciate it as they are nothing if not adventurous....

Whilst on the subject why is all the cutlery at Thai restaurants always gold and generally over- sized with spoons made for people sporting a mouth the size of Naomi Robson's?

Posted by: Garry on October 20, 2006 6:48 AM

I never met Dom and probably won't ever do so, so any "inappropriate" comments I may make about him are not accompanied with mental images (at least not in my head).

And talent in the sack does count for a lot, any woman who tells you different is lying and any man doesn't secretly think so is deluding himself.

Besides, I like a man who knows what he's doing that way. Call me old fashioned, but there you have it.

Posted by: Killer Bees on October 20, 2006 8:56 AM

The thing is sport is really bad for you. Hero/ine for a few years and then your body starts to break down. Sports injuries can lead to disabilities in the long term. I met this very nice 23 yr old Bulldogs player (first grade I think, whichever is not the r**e squad) and he had a tin knee, reconstructions every six months. I just imagined him limping along later in life, trying to catch the bus...

You're better off being crap now, not extending yourself, not snapping anything, breaking anything, no risks.

You'll outstride them later.

Posted by: Julie~ on October 20, 2006 1:36 PM

Bring it on. These stories are great. I just don't get how you all can be sooo un-co. It's very entertaining.

Posted by: suey on October 20, 2006 10:12 PM

Julie there is much wisdom in your words. See above for my own lack of sporting prowess. However, the sporty types from school have sustained injuries, fallen off motorbikes, got tattoos, had too many drinks, drugs (icluding steroids), ciggies and late nights at sports clubs, and generally realised that there were plenty of others better than them. At least I never laboured under that delusion. I would back myself against most of them in a marathon now. I particularly remember one who was a bodybuilder, whose broken leg could not be reset for a few days, becausehis muscle bulk prevented the doctors from putting the bones back together. They had to wait until his muscles wasted a bit.

Posted by: Professor Rosseforp on October 20, 2006 10:22 PM

I never used to wear a box in junior cricket either. I used to be ok at batting. Then I started wearing a box for senior cricket. I think I set a record with 4 ducks in a row. :S

Posted by: Alex on October 23, 2006 9:23 AM

And where else would Killer Bees have a "mental image" if not in her "head".
Oh that's right I forgot.
She could have a mental image in her regular head in her regular life. But wait that would still be a mental image in her head.
Go figure!
I got it: She has a head that is not in her regular life: that would be a nonregular head with a regular mental image not there... Wait hold on this is getting deeper and deeper...

Well there you have it.
And if anybody is wondering as they hang on to every word she says; there is love for her son from her.

Well there you have it again.
She is just your average "wind swept and interesting" gal.
I don't know about you but I just can't get enough of her.

Well there you have it again and again.
I am "embarrassing myself". She said so.

But in my regular life the regular embarrassment is not lived through me online.